


Mornin'

by mapleandmahogany



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Romance, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-18
Updated: 2007-02-18
Packaged: 2018-10-27 17:08:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10813227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mapleandmahogany/pseuds/mapleandmahogany
Summary: Harry recalls his 'first time' with Ron.





	Mornin'

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes:

Written for [](http://community.livejournal.com/harry_and_ron/profile)[**harry_and_ron**](http://community.livejournal.com/harry_and_ron/)'s [First Time at Valentine's](http://community.livejournal.com/harry_and_ron/646939.html) Challenge. Thanks to the super quick and eager [](http://gwen1170.livejournal.com/profile)[**gwen1170**](http://gwen1170.livejournal.com/) for the beta!!

* * *

~^~

“Aw please, you can tell me. I wanna know,” he wheedled.

Bill and Fleur’s eldest boy, Vincent, at fifteen years old had their combined beauty, but he was so very much like Ron.

Vincent also had a penchant for boys apparently, which for some reason resulted in our nephew staying with us for the summer.

“Tell me about your first time with Uncle Ron,” he prompted me again.

I spluttered.

“Well give me minute, Vin. I’m not sure how much I can tell ya here, mate.”

What exactly was I suppose to tell him? There was never some grand fairy tale moment. No romantic Valentine’s Day proposal at the top of The Eiffel Tower.

“It just sort of happened naturally for us one day.”

“Oh come on, you two are a couple of old war heroes. It had to be more exciting than that!”

“Watch who you’re calling _old_ ,” I said, flicking him in the back of the head.

Besides, when we were in the middle of the war, the last thing we needed was _more_ excitement in our lives. We wanted something safe and warm and found it in each other’s arms and each other’s bodies.

“Aunt Ginny says you two fell in with each other some time after you left school.”

“Yeah, your Aunt Ginny knows pretty well about that,” I answered regretfully.

It wasn’t Gin’s fault that we’d spent that winter bundled in thick sweaters and sharing blankets to keep warm. That part wasn’t a big deal. But it was when the summer came and the nights were warm and we still found ourselves sleeping next to each other that we had to admit something was different.

“You two were cool though, yeah? There wasn’t any stupid flirting and giggling, like with girls.”

“Not quite like that, no.” I smiled at him, recalling how bewildering a giggling girl was to a fifteen year old boy. Especially one who loved his best friend.

But there had been flirting in our own way. Like when we maneuvered around each other at the bathroom sink, taking our turns shaving. Ron put his hand on my naked waist as he reached around me for his toothbrush. His fingers remained in place on my skin longer than they needed to and our eyes met. His ears and my cheeks were pink, but we smiled. And it was all just _okay_ after that.

“Aunt Hermione said Uncle Ron is _still_ the best kisser she’s ever had. You think so too?” he asked.

“I think your Aunt Hermione says that just to wind up your Uncle Charlie. But yeah, Uncle Ron’s not too bad in the kissing department,” I said, dropping my eyes to the dregs of my tea.

“I haven’t decided if I like it yet,” Vincent said, scrunching his nose. “Kissing. Too _wet_ , if you ask me. And what are you supposed to do with your hands?”

“You’ll get the hang of it, I promise.” I could identify with poor kid.

“Like you and Uncle Ron did?”

I gave him my ‘you’re pushing it kid’ eyebrow and drank my tea.

But I remembered rolling towards Ron during the night that summer and feeling him watching me. I opened my eyes and he gave that dead sexy smile of his. I reached up and put my hand on his chest, only then realizing he’d taken off his t-shirt.

My hand had better instincts than my brain as I slowly rubbed across the breadth of him, feeling the taut muscle and fine hair under my palm.

He leaned close and kissed me.

Our first kiss, and as exciting as it was, it was mostly just quiet. He and I in the dark, discovering that our lips and tongues complemented each other as well as everything else about us did. He tilted left, and I right, he sucked while I licked. His hands slipped around my waist and his fingers stroked up under the back of my shirt and pulled me closer.

“So how long was it just kissing? How long before you did other stuff?” Vincent asked, breaking into my memory. He looked terribly embarrassed but like young man who desperately needed to know, and I remember wishing there was someone I could have asked.

“Oh, uh, well, Vincent, the way it worked for us has no bearing on how it’ll work out for you. You can’t plan for that sort of thing when you’re with someone.”

Ron and I hadn’t planned anything. But there we were, under the summer moon, young and hot and hard. His hands were tugging off my clothes and my hands were touching every stretch of lean, freckled Weasley I could reach. I wouldn’t say it was frantic, but methodic and aggressive, like the way we played chess against each other.

“So were you ever worried, you know, about what other people might say about you?”

I laughed.

“Not as much as we should have, maybe. We were young and rebellious and didn’t much care about what other people said. We were already used to harsh critics by then.”

What with people calling me a lunatic and him a sycophant, what did we care if ‘woofter’ was added to the list? All we knew was that we needed each other, and needed the touching and exploring.

Ron’s oral fixation didn’t – and still doesn’t - end with sweets. He kissed every part of me. _Every_ part. He’s given better blowjobs since then, but I wouldn’t have known any different that night. He licked and sucked on me as though I were a prize. I was suddenly jealous of every Chocolate Frog that had preceded my cock over those pink lips and down his throat. My boy could suck the oxygen out of my lungs through my prick. And there’s no care for dignity when you’re on your knees and chest with your bare arse in the air being plundered by that long and talented tongue.

“I think it’s really cool you were already friends. You avoided all the awkward stuff.”

I pulled on the collar of my t-shirt, trying to remember Vincent was desperate for a blokey heart to heart here and I was getting breathless over a memory.

“Hm, I suppose. Every relationship takes work though. You can’t forget that. There’s a lot of give and take; compromise,” I noted.

Like when you give your life and your body over to your best friend, and he takes all that you can give, your love and your virginity and your promise.

And he gave everything he could back, his loyalty and his tenderness. Showing it in the only way he knew how, by kissing and caressing. He licked his way up my spine and kissed away my trembles as his fingers reached inside of me, sending off sparks of desire in me for something I’d never had.

“Come on, Uncle Harry, you almost make it sound boring. Or, maybe you’re just so old you’ve just forgotten what it was like?”

Cheeky little bastard.

“Have _not_ , smartarse. Just cause I’m not spilling the details to you, doesn’t mean I don’t remember them, ya little deviant.”

It’d be impossible to forget that first time. I was holding my breath, looking at my clenching knuckles turn white as I waited for the burn of him to push his swollen cock into me.

But instead, he nudged me and rolled me onto my back where I was suddenly smothered with more _Ron_ than I knew what to do with. He was everywhere. His lips on my neck while his soft hair hung down into my face. His wet cock sliding against mine. I wrapped my legs around him, feeling his hipbones inside my thighs and by the time I realized he had shifted his weight he was already pushing into me. A little rough perhaps, a little clumsy and unyielding.

“How am I supposed to know what to expect if nobody tells me what its like?” Vincent asked again. Maybe he’s more like Percy then I thought.

“You’ve been taught every thing you need to know about good health charms,” I told him, remembering the responsible adult part. Then added, “Just remember to be considerate and slow with the person you’re with.”

“So, are you saying that because Uncle Ron _wasn’t_ considerate and slow? Or because he _was_?”

“You sneaky little shit, quit snoopin’ for particulars.”

“’m not!”

But Merlin, Ron was all of those things as he slid deep into me. I was too shy to say the words for what I needed and wanted back then, but he listened to the sounds I made. He watched my face. He kissed and stroked me so I stayed relaxed. That much still hasn’t changed. I just held onto him and pulled my knees up higher and vowed that I would learn to take care of him like this and make him come like I did only a minute later.

“I’ve heard people say that they’ve never seen two people who belong together more than you two,” Vincent said quietly.

“Who says that?” I asked, my hard on making me painfully aware that Ron and I hadn’t fucked in the week since Vincent had arrived.

“Everyone says so. The whole family.”

“That’s nice to hear, Vin,” I chuckled. “Really.”

“So did things change afterwards? Was it better or worse once you became ‘more than friends’?”

“That’s a good question,” I said, thinking back.

That next morning we weren’t just sleeping next to each other, but holding each other. Our hearts as bare as our bodies were. But I looked into those baby blues of his and he said, “Mornin’.” Just like always.

Even though everything had changed during the night, nothing had really changed. He was still Ron.

“Well,” I finally answered. “He might have let me win a game of chess now and then.”

“I did not!” Ron said, walking in the kitchen door. He set the morning Prophet and a box of sticky buns on the table. “You win or lose on your own. I don’t love you that much.”

I looked up into those baby blues and smiled.

“Mornin’,” he said and winked at me as he ran his hand over the back of my head and then tousled Vincent’s.

And even now, not much has changed. He’s still my Ron.

~^~


End file.
